scoonts.theminotaur-第18部分

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　The　secretary　appeared　in　his　door。　〃The　puter　man　will　be　here　in　a　little　while。　His　name　is　Kleinberg。　Good　night；　Captain。〃
　〃Did　you　lock　up　everything？〃
　〃No；　sir。　I　thought　you　might　want　to　took　through　some　files。〃
　〃Sure。　Good　night〃
　Jake　waited　for　the　door　to　click　shut；　then　went　out　into　the　room。　He　found　Judy's　desk　and　sat　down。　He　stirred　through　a　small　pile　of　phone　messages。　Just　names　and　numbers。　A　thin　appointment　book　with　a　black　cover。　He　flipped　through　it　slowly。
　The　days　up　until　now　were　heavily　annotated。　Today's　page　was　blank。　He　held　the　book　at　arm's　length　over　the　desk　and　dropped　it。　It　fell　with　a　splat。
　Damn！　He　felt　so　frustrated…
　Well；　at　least　he　knew　most　of　Henry's　once…upon…a…time　story　was　true；　though　where　that　got　him　he　had　no　idea。　And　he　knew　that　Judy　made　a　trip　to　West　Virginia　today。　Why？　To　see　Trooper　Keadle　or　the　prosecutor？　To　search　Strong's　cabin？　Well；　Judy　was　certainly　going　to　be　surprised　to　hear　that　Jake　knew　he　was　there。　Or　was　he？　Maybe　he　would　tell　Jake　himself　in　the　morning。
　Jake　turned　on　the　office　copy　machine　and　while　it　was　warming　up　stood　and　read　the　entries　in　Judy's　calendar　again　carefully。　Smoke　seemed　to　have　made　a　lot　of　notes　about　Karen。　Karen　who？　Karen　472…3656；　that's　who。　Why　did　he　write　her　phone　number　down　so　often？　Aha；　because　she　had　different　phone　numbers…at　least　four　of　them。　And　this　guy　Bob…lunch；　tennis　on　Saturday；　reminders　that　he　called；　to　call　Bob。　Call　DE。　Call　from　RM。　Drop　car　at　garage。　mode　broke。　Smoke　Judy　seemed　to　jot　down　everything　out　of　the　ordinary。　He　was　a　detail　man　in　a　detail　business。
　When　he　had　his　copies　Jake　put　the　appointment　book　back　on　Judy's　desk　and　went　back　to　his　little　office。　In　a　few　moments　he　heard　a　knock　on　the　door；　so　he　heaved　himself　up　and　walked　across　the　room　to　admit　the　visitor…
　The　man　in　civilian　clothes　who　came　in　was　slightly　below　medium　height；　built　like　a　fireplug　and　just　as　bald。　〃Hi。　Name's　Kleinberg。　From　NSA。　puters。〃　His　voice　boomed。　Here　was　a　man　who　could　never　whisper。　In　his　left　hand　he　carried　a　leather　valise。
　〃I'm　Grafton。〃
　〃Beg　pardon；〃　the　man　said　as　he　reached　out　and　tilted　the　bottom　of　Jake's　security　tag。　He　stared　at　it　a　few　seconds；　then　glanced　again　at　Jake's　face。　〃Yep；　you're　Grafton；　all　right。　Can't　be　too　careful；　y'know。〃
　〃Uh…huh。〃
　〃Let's　look　at　the　patient。〃
　Jake　led　the　way　to　his　desk。　〃I　don't　know　much　about　puters。〃
　〃No　sweat。　I　know　enough　for　both　of　us。　When　we're　through；　you're　going　to　be　able　to　make　this　thing　sing　and　dance。〃　Kleinberg　turned　on　the　puter。　〃See　this　prompt　here？　That's　the　sign…on　prompt　and　you　have　to　type　in　your　secret　password。　This　is　a　code　that　identifies　you　to　the　machine；　which　allows　you　access　to　certain　files　and　only　certain　files。　Security；　y'know。　Here's　your　password。〃　He　used　a　pencil　on　a　sheet　of　paper　and　wrote；　〃Reverberation。〃
　〃How　e　I　can't　pick　my　own　word？〃
　〃We　tried　that　on　the　second　go…around。　Everyone　wanted　to　e　up　with　something　cute；　except　for　the　aviators；　who　all　wanted　to　use　their　nicknames。　You'd　have　thought　they　were　ordering　vanity　license　plates。　So。。。　Now　type　in　your　password。〃
　Jake　did　so。　The　puter　prompt　moved　from　left　to　right；　but　the　letters　failed　to　appear。
　〃Now　hit　'enter。'　Uh…oh；　the　puter　won't　take　it。　So　type　it　again　and　spell　it　right。〃　This　time　the　puter　blinked　to　the　next　screen。　〃You　only　get　two　tries；〃　Kleinberg　advised。　〃If　you　are　wrong　both　times；　the　puter　will　lock　you　out　and　you'll　have　to　see　me　about　getting　back　in。〃
　〃How　can　it　lock　me　out　if　I　haven't　told　it　exactly　who　I　am？〃
　〃It　locks　out　everyone　who　has　access　from　the　bank　of　monitors　in　this　office。〃　Kleinberg　wrote　another　password　on　the　paper：
　〃Fallacy。〃
　〃This　is　the　password　that　allows　you　access　to　files　relating　to　the　ATA；　which　is　what　I　understand　you　are　working　on　here　in　this　shop。　Type　it　in　and　hit　'enter。'〃　Jake　obeyed。　〃Now；　to　call　up　the　directory　of　the　files　you　have　access　to　due　to　your　security　clearance　and　job　title；　you　have　to　type　one　more　password。〃　He　wrote　it　down。　〃Matriarch。〃
　After　Jake　entered　this　code；　a　long　list　of　documents　appeared　on　the　screen。　〃Of　course；　if　you　already　have　the　document　number；　you　can　type　it　right　in　and　not　bother　calling　up　the　directory　with　the　matriarch　code　word。　Got　it？〃
　〃'Reverberation'；　'fallacy'　and　'matriarch'。　What　was　the　first　go…around　on　the　code　words？〃
　Kleinberg　laughed。　〃Well；　we　used　puter…generated　random　series　of　letters。　They　weren't　words；　just　a　series　of　letters。　But　people　couldn't　remember　them　and　took　to　writing　them　down　in　notebooks；　checkbooks　and　so　forth。　So　we　tried　plan　two。　This　is　plan　three。〃
　Kleinberg　took　a　lighter　from　his　pocket　and　held　the　flame　under　the　piece　of　paper　on　which　he　had　written　the　code　words。
　It　flared。　Just　before　the　fire　reached　his　fingers；　he　dropped　the　paper　on　the　plastic　carpet　protector　under　the　chair　and　watched　the　remnant　turn　to　ash；　which　he　crushed　with　his　shoe。　Kleinberg　rubbed　his　hands　and　smiled。　〃Now　we　begin。〃　He　spent　the　next　hour　showing　Jake　how　to　create；　edit　and　access　documents　on　this　list。　When　he　had　finished　answering　Jake's　questions；　he　flipped　the　machine　off　and　gave　Jake　one　of　his　cards。　〃Call　me　when　you　have　questions；　or　ask　one　of　the　guys　here　who's　been　around　a　while。〃
　〃Uh…huh。〃
　〃Wele　to　Washington。〃　Kleinberg　shook　hands；　hoisted　his　leather　bag　and　left。
　Jake　began　to　lock　away　the　papers　on　his　desk。　While　he　was　here　he　might　as　well　look　again　at　that　two…year…old　book　of　Harold　Strong's。
　He　opened　the　upper　left　drawer。　The　matchbooks　and　rubber　bands　and　other　stuff　were　still　there；　but　the　book　wasn't。　He　looked　in　every　drawer　in　the　desk。　Nope。　It　was　gone。
　
　Henry　Jenks　dropped　Toad　at　the　BOQ　at　11　P。M。　After　he　filled　out　the　paperwork　at　the　desk。　Toad　went　up　to　his　room　and　crashed。
　The　following　day　was　a　copy　of　the　previous　afternoon：　an　hour　in　the　simulator；　an　hour　at　the　blackboard；　then　back　to　the　simulator。　By　noon　he　was　navigating　from　one　large　radar…reflective　target　to　another。　In　the　afternoon　he　ran　his　first　attack。
　During　all　his　hours　in　the　simulator　the　canopy　remained　open　and　Jenks　stood　there　beside　him　talking　continuously；　prompting　him；　pointing　out　errors。　Running　the　system　in　the　simulator　wasn't　too　difficult　with　Jenks　right　there。
　Toad　wasn't　fooled。
　At　five　hundred　feet　above　hostile　terrain　on　a　stormy　night　with　the　tracers　streaking　over　the　canopy　and　the　missile　warning　lights　flashing；　this　bombardier…navigator　business　was　going　to　be　a　whole　different　ball　game。　The　pilot　would　be　slamming　the　plane　around；　pulling　on　that　stick　like　it　was　the　lever　to　open　heaven's　gate。　And　the　BN　had　to　sit　here　delicately　tweaking　the　radar　and　infrared　and　nursing　the　puter　and　laser　while　trying　not　to　vomit　into　his　oxygen　mask。　Toad　knew。　He　had　been　there　in　the　backseat　of　an　F…14。　The　best　way　to　team　this　stuff　was　by　repetition。　Every　task；　every　adjustment；　the　correction　for　every　failure…it　all　had　to　be　automatic。　If　you　had　to　think　about　it；　you　didn't　know　it　and　you　sure　as　hell　wouldn't　remember　it　when　you　were　riding　this　bucking　pig　up　the　devil's　asshole。
　At　five　in　the　evening　Jenks　drove　him　back　to　the　BOQ。　〃Tonight　you　study　the　NATOPS。〃　NATOPS…Naval　Air　Training　and　Operating　Procedures…was　the　Book　on　the　airplane；　the　navy　equivalent　to　the　air　force　Dash　One　manual。　〃Learn　the　emergency　procedures。　Tomorrow　you　and　Moravia　will　be　in　the　simulator　together。　We'll　run　some　attacks　and　pop　some　emergencies　and　failures。　The　next　day　you　fly　the　real　airplane。　Study　hard。〃
　〃Thanks；　sadist。〃
　〃You're　all　right；　Tarkington；　even　if　you　are　a　fighter　puke。〃
　Toad　slammed　the　car　door　and　stomped　into　the　BOQ。　He　was　whipped；　drained。　Maybe　he　ought　to　go　jogging　to　clean　the　pipes。
　In　his　room　he　changed　into　his　sweat　togs。　The　wind　ing　in　off　Puget　Sound　had　a　pronounced　bite　and　the　sun　was　already　settling；　so　he　added　a　second　heavy　sweatshirt。　He　was　leaning　into　a　post　supporti